


My Fallen Idol

by Theatre_Sarah3



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Love Never Dies - Lloyd Webber, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Oral Sex, Sleepy Cuddles, This AU has been done before, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 05:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10353636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theatre_Sarah3/pseuds/Theatre_Sarah3
Summary: Raoul is dead and Christine and her son must face the world without him. But after so many years of torment, will the return of Erik bring Christine her long awaited happiness?Set twelve years after the Phantom of the Opera.





	

It was a cold day when Christine buried her husband. 

She rode on the back of a horse, its body clad in black ribbons with a plume of ebony feathers on its head. 

Beside her walked her brother in law, Philippe, gently leading the horse onwards, behind the great carriage that held Raoul's remains. 

Behind her lace veil, Christine's mind harboured many contradicting emotions. In these last three years Raoul, her beloved childhood sweetheart had changed. His drinking habits and gambling had spiralled out of control. 

For the sake of public face, his death was described in all the newspapers as a tragic accident whilst he was out riding. In reality, only those closest to the family knew the truth. His death was due to a brawl in a gambling den, in which an angry exchange of bullets and the infection that followed, was the reason behind Raoul de Changy’s swift demise. 

His death had come as a relief for Christine, the physical and mental strain of living with such an unpredictable man had taken its toll. She was only twenty-eight years of age and yet she felt like a woman three times that. 

To make matters worse, Raoul was a jealous man. She could not look at another man at a dinner party without provoking his suspicions. Most of those arguments would end with a black eye and the slamming of doors. 

However, nothing heightened his jealousy more than their son, Gustave. 

From the moment he was born, with his little head covered in black curls, rather than blonde, caused Raoul to doubt Christine. Many a fight would be caused because of their son. She, of course, knew the truth but would deny it. Gustave was not his father's son. 

Snapping back out of her daydream, she looked behind her. Gustave was walking along with his cousins in silence. She hated to see him mourn a man that had been nothing but hateful towards him, but he knew no better. In Gustave’s mind, the man who lay in that coffin was his father, he had every right to mourn him. 

Christine took a deep breath as they entered the church yard. It had been some time since she had been here. In these last years, even the church had become a place she was forbidden to go. Raoul had taken everything from her, it was her turn to gain it back. 

-  
The service was short. 

None of the family could bear it to be any longer. 

His mother, the matriarch of family insisted that he be buried elsewhere. She would not have such a son, buried next to his father and sisters. He had become the family shame, in more ways than one. 

Despite his heavy drinking and gambling, Christine was never allowed to forget that he had married beneath himself. Christine was no peasant, but she was no princess either. Marrying the destitute daughter of a penniless violinist did not sit well with the family, she knew they hated her. All but one, her brother in law Philippe. 

He had supported and protected her for the last twelve years, providing her with compassion and kindness whenever she needed it. His wife Marie was one of her only true friends. Both of them suffered greatly for befriending her, but because of this she never felt completely alone. 

Marie squeezed her hand, as they lowered Raoul into the ground. Christine was crying but from relief rather than pain. His mother, who was being very loud in her own distress, threw her a look of near understanding. The old woman knew her son loved her, it was just a pity she was so low born. 

Christine had her arm wrapped around Gustave and pulled him closer as she heard him sniffling into her dress. Philippe and Marie's children all hugged Gustave, they had been taught to love their cousin, no matter what their own grandmother preached. 

The priest then passed Christine a box, containing some earth. She took a handful before passing it along. 

Stepping forward, she looked down into the grave. She sprinkled the dirt over Raoul’s coffin whilst the priest spoke aloud.

“We commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life, Amen” 

“Amen” replied the congregation. 

Christine's lips did not move. She cursed him, she did not want him to rise again with all the angels after she had lived in torment for the last twelve years of her life. Now she prayed he would awaken in it. 

As the service ended, Christine stood resolutely. As the rest of the family and friends slipped away, she could hear their murmurs and whispers. 

“Poor child,” said one, “to be widowed so young” 

“She cannot bare to see him go” whispered another, “see how she cannot leave his graveside” 

She ignored them all, she did not want their sympathy, especially when she suspected that it was not genuine. 

“Mama” 

She snapped out of her dreamlike state to see her son, tugging at her dress. 

“Yes mon ange” she replied, bending down to his level. 

“May I go with my cousins?” he asked. 

She looked to Philippe who nodded, “of course you may, I will see you back at the house” 

He gave a small smile, and she held his face in her hands and kissed his cheek. 

“Be good” she whispered, tapping his nose with her gloved finger. 

“I will” he replied, “Papa always told me to be good” 

Christine saw him look down into the grave but quickly moved his head back to face her. 

“Yes, your Papa would want you to be good, as do I, now run go with Uncle Philippe” she ordered. 

“Sweet sister,” said Philippe, “come away now” 

“I need a few more moments brother, please allow me that,” she asked. 

He nodded reluctantly and called Marie over, “Would you take our Gustave back to the house with you darling, he wishes to ride with his cousins, Christine wishes to remain by the grave for a moment longer, I will not leave her alone in her grief” 

“Of course” replied Marie, taking Gustave's hand. 

Christine smiled her thanks, watching as Gustave and his Aunt disappeared behind the church. 

“I have never thought to ask,” she said, turning back towards the graveside.

“Ask what sister?” 

“What is to become of me now?” she asked, “and Gustave?” 

“It is now for you to decide my dear, you can pick a house, and reside in it forever should you choose” replied Philippe. 

“Your mother is not going to throw me to the side?” she asked. 

“I would never let that happen” replied Philippe firmly, “Raoul was her golden boy, but even she saw through his stupid act, in the end, she dislikes you, but she would never toss you away” 

Christine sighed, “that does bring me some relief” 

“Which home will you choose?” asked Philippe.

“I have always loved our summer home in Provence, and Gustave loves playing there” she replied.

“But it so far from Paris!” exclaimed Philippe.

“I know, but I need to build a new life for myself and for my son” she replied firmly.

“Would you not consider your estates in Orléans or Chartres?” asked Philippe. 

“No, I must begin again, Raoul, as you can imagine would never allow much socialising in Provence, so I can rebuild my reputation” she replied. 

“Would you come back to Paris, for Christmas or Easter?” he asked, “we would miss you both greatly” 

“Possibly, but never for long” she replied, “you know that yourself, Marie and the children will always be welcome to visit us in Provence” 

“Nothing I can say or do will make you stay?” he asked.

“No”, she looked back down at the grave, “I am finished with Paris” 

“I understand” he replied, “but you are free now” 

“Happily so” she replied. 

“Will you remarry?” he asked, “you are young, beautiful and intelligent, I can think of scores of men who would ask for your hand” 

She smiled sadly, “I cannot say, Raoul was my first love. Before that, the only man I loved was my Papa, and then there was-” she stopped. 

“Who?” 

She shook her head, “nevermind” 

“He was obviously important to you, who was he?” pushed Philippe. 

“He was no one” snapped Christine. 

“Forgive me” apologised Philippe, “it is the day of your husband's funeral and I am talking to you about lost loves, I forgot myself” 

“Don't apologise” she hushed softly, “he was merely a stagehand at the Opera House who Raoul grew jealous of” 

“Did he perish in the fire?” asked Philippe. 

“No, but he has since died, I am sure of it” she explained, “he would have tried to contact me, had he still been alive” 

“I am sorry to hear that,” said Philippe, “I am sorry about all of this” 

“Bless you brother” replied Christine, gently kissing his cheek, “Marie and yourself have been nothing but kind to me, I would not have been able to survive had it not been for you both” 

“Come, it is going to rain, I must get you back to the house,” said Philippe, holding out his arm. 

Christine took one last look at Raoul's coffin, she pulled her wedding ring out of her pocket and before Philippe could stop her, she tossed it on top of the coffin. 

“I have no need for it” she protested, suspecting that Philippe may jump down to retrieve it. 

“Perhaps, but you could have sold it” he replied. 

“Is my son's fortune being taken away?” she immediately asked. 

“Of course not, that money is his, as well as yours” Philippe quickly replied. 

“Then it is nothing to me,” she said firmly, taking Philippe’s arm. 

As they were walking back across the graveyard, Christine suddenly heard a soft whisper, almost like a voice from a dream. 

She stopped dead and spun round, her nervous eyes dancing over the tombstones and the nearby trees.

She could see no one. That did not surprise her if this voice was her Angel, he was a master of disguise. He could be standing in plain sight and no one would see him. 

Another thought hit her, perhaps she was going mad. Her shaking hands rubbed her temples, and she relaxed as she felt Philippe's arms wrap around her own.

“Come on Christine, this day has been long, you need rest,” he said softly.

“Rest” breathed Christine, “I don't think I know what that means anymore” 

“Then you must go to Provence and get some, you need the warm air and beauty to give you your youth back” he urged. 

“Yes, I must go” she muttered before she allowed herself to be lead away from the graves and away from the whispers. 

Meanwhile, hidden in the shadows Erik silently stood watching the service. For twelve years he had mourned her and tried to protect her. He admired from afar, he had no choice. 

Now his rival was dead. Her heart was hurting but he knew how to soothe it. As for the child, he had little idea of it. Christine had never told him otherwise. He had promised himself he would never harm the child. It was half Raoul, but more importantly, it was half Christine.

But his hope had been restored a mere moment ago. He was afraid his whispers would not be heard by his Angel anymore, but she heard them. Without knowing it, she had stared straight at him. He was hidden so she had no hope of feeling his gaze, but he knew she still wanted him.

Now there was nothing standing in his way. 

-

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight Mama?” asked Gustave, as she pulled his nightshirt over him. 

“Of course you can mon ange” replied Christine. 

Gustave smiled and happily wandered to the next room and hopped on his parent's bed. 

Christine followed but she felt uncomfortable. She felt eyes on her but she convinced herself she was tired. 

It could never be her Angel, he was long dead. 

She closed the door and climbed into bed in her dressing gown. Gustave snuggled against her chest and seemed reluctant to sleep. 

“It has been a long day darling, get some sleep” ordered Christine. 

Gustave nodded and closed his eyes. Within moments his eyes were open again. 

“What is the matter mon ange? she asked softly.

“Will you sing for me?” he asked.

Christine was stunned. Raoul never allowed her to sing, he said her singing was attracting unwanted attention. She knew he was afraid that the Phantom would return into their life should she keep singing, even in the privacy of their own home. 

Moreso, Raoul never allowed her to sing around Gustave, only when he was a baby or completely inconsolable would he permit her to sing. She did not think he would remember her voice, let alone request for it. 

“Please Mama, you used to sing me to sleep when I was little, please” urged Gustave. 

“What - what would you like me to sing,” she asked. 

“Anything” he replied.

She took a deep breath and began to sing.

“Dodo, l'enfant do, L'enfant dormira bien vite. Dodo, l'enfant do L'enfant dormira bientôt”

As she sang the simple tune she watched as Gustave slowly began to fall asleep.

“Une poule blanche, Est là dans la grange.  
Qui va faire un petit coco, Pour l'enfant qui va fair' dodo”.

 

Christine kept singing, gently brushing her son's dark hair with her hand, wishing this moment could last forever.

Just a few rooms down, Erik slipped silently through the large house. The servants were asleep, just a merge wall kept him and his love apart. 

That was when he heard it. The most beautiful noise in the world. His Christine was singing. 

Singing her son to sleep, he thought. He recognised the tune and soon the words themselves returned to him. It was the same lullaby he would sing to Christine when she was a child and could not sleep. 

He stood rigid, allowing himself to be lost in her sweet voice. The same voice he had nurtured and cared for, for so many years. 

“No” he muttered. He would not disturb her now, she is happy. 

Erik was content to wait. After twelve years, another hour or two seemed bearable. 

He slipped into the next room, glad to find it empty. He sat on the nearest chair and listened, caught in a contradiction. He wanted her to stop singing so he could see her, but he wanted her to sing because he could not yet see her. 

He would have to practice one of his weakest virtues, patience. 

-

Christine had finally drifted off to sleep. The first peaceful sleep she had had in almost three years. 

She had to wait up for Raoul to return home from his drinking or gambling as the servants had become too nervous around him. If he did not return until the morning she had to be content with no sleep. She had found out, many a time the consequences of falling asleep without him. 

But something different pulled her from her sleep this night. It was not the sound of her husband storming through the house in a drunken rage, it was a gentle voice that jolted her awake. 

“Christine” the voice whispered.

She sat up and lit her candle, trying her best to not let her fear wake her sleeping son. 

“Who's there?” she whispered. 

The voice did not answer her question, instead, it whispered again, “Christine” 

“Come out and show yourself” she ordered in a whisper.

“Come to me mon ange” the voice whispered.

Christine gasped, “It can't be” 

The voice went silent. 

Christine slipped from her bed, making sure her movements were slow and steady. The last thing she wanted to do was to disturb Gustave. 

She heard the voice again. It was not in her room, she was sure of it. Making her way out into the hallway she listened for its call. 

Though the voice was silent, she felt a familiar pull towards the room at the end of the hallway. She stepped tentatively, moving almost like she was in a dream. 

Her hand remained steady as she opened the door. Inside it was dark, but she sensed she was not alone.

Light always exposed him, she knew this. His domain was the darkness, she must use the light to tempt him out. 

Round the room she went, hurriedly lighting candles. Hoping he would appear. 

Christine stood in the dimly lit room, her nervous eyes scanning the corners for any sign of movement. 

She jumped out of her skin as the door quietly closed and the voice finally spoke to her directly.

“Ever the temptress aren't you Christine?” 

She spun round and felt the floor move underneath her. Her eyes gazed upon him after so many years apart with mixed emotions, anger and joy flooded her heart as she drank in his features. 

“Has hell itself opened back up?” she breathed, trying to remain steady. 

“What do you know of hell?” he questioned, stepping towards her.

“Enough” she replied swiftly. 

As their eyes locked neither of them could stop themselves.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she, in turn, threw her own arms around his neck, before their lips finally collided. 

This passionate embrace continued for a few seconds before Erik pulled away.

She watched as his eyes stared at her, they seemed confused almost bewildered.

“What is the matter Erik?” she asked, “have I changed?” 

“Indeed and for the better” he replied. 

“I thought you were a man who dislikes change” she commented. 

“I prefer control, change leads to chaos” he replied. 

“I have learnt to thrive in chaos and you in control” she observed. 

“Quite the pair, are we not” he chuckled quietly, reluctantly releasing her waist.

“What are you doing here Erik?” she asked, trying to remain quiet.

“I thought my arrival would be obvious?” he commented.

“After twelve years, I will desire I better explanation” ordered Christine.

Erik sensed her anger. 

“I regret leaving you,” he admitted, “that decision has tormented me for these last twelve years”

“Why did you leave me?” she asked.

“Fear” he replied.

“I did not think you had the capacity to fear” she commented.

“Neither did I” he replied quietly.

Christine had not seen this vulnerability for so long. She had only ever seen a glimmer of it when they had been together intimately all those years ago. 

“Did you not ever think to write to me?” she asked.

“And say what?” he demanded, “Dear Christine, I am so sorry that I almost destroyed your lifelong happiness with the most eligible bachelor in Paris, please do inform me of the next time you wish me to visit”

Christine watched him storm away from her, the furthest wall preventing him from moving any further.

“You left me because of guilt didn’t you” she responded.

“My presence would have compromised your happiness” he began.

“And what do you know of my happiness?” she exclaimed.

Erik turned to face her.

“You murdered my happiness” she cried.

In this moment she could no longer bare to see him. 

However as she went to storm out of the room, he leapt and grabbed her arm, causing her to gasp in pain.

He immediately released his grip and held his hand away from her. 

She sighed, “It’s alright” she assured, “you did not hurt me”

“But someone did” he replied, his eyes wandering to the deep purple bruises now visible on her exposed forearm.

“Like I said” she replied, tugging down her nightgown sleeve. “You did not hurt me”

“It was the boy wasn’t it,” he asked.

“My husband-” she stopped, “Raoul liked things a certain way”

“And that is his punishment for disobedience” spat Erik.

“Erik” she hushed.

“He should not have laid a hand on you” exclaimed Erik, “what right did he have to resort to violence when you disagreed with him!” 

“Remind you of anyone” she retorted. 

She instantly regretted her choice of words. His face didn’t show it, but she saw it in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry” she replied, “Forgive me, it’s been a long day”

Now was not the best time to reveal her secret, especially with both their emotions so raw, but as she saw a little head peak around the door and she knew she was ruined. 

“Mama” called Gustave nervously.

Christine saw Erik tense, he looked as if he was willing to hide, but she held up her hand to stop him.

“Come in sweetheart” she replied.

Gustave tentatively wandered into the room and stopped dead as he laid eyes on Erik. 

“Gustave, this is my dear friend Monsieur Erik” explained, Christine, as she walked over to her son. 

“Vicomte,” said Erik, taking a little bow.

Gustave, still unable to take his eyes off this strange man, bowed in return before he asked, “How do you know my Mama?”

“I knew your mother whilst she performed at the Opera House, that is where I also had the pleasure of conversing with you late father” replied Erik, rather admiring the boy’s curiosity. 

"You knew my Papa?" questioned Gustave.

Erik looked at Christine before he replied, "We, unfortunately, did not have a secure friendship"

"He never mentioned you" commented Gustave.

"He will have done dear boy, you will not have known me by the names your late father called me" replied Erik.

"What did he call you?" asked Gustave.

"Well-" began Erik.

Christine intervened quickly, "Come now Gustave, you need rest"

Despite his protests, Gustave allowed his mother to usher him out of the room. 

"Mama, he is a strange man" commented Gustave, as she tucked him back under the blankets.

"He is unusual my dear" replied Christine.

"Why does he wear that mask?" asked Gustave, "is he a magician!" 

Christine laughed nervously, " Some could call him that" 

"Why is he here?" asked Gustave.

"Like he told you my darling, he has known myself and your Papa a very long time, he wished to pay his respects" explained Christine, rising back on her feet. 

Gustave nodded. 

"Now you must stay here, whilst I see to our guest, go to sleep" ordered Christine.

"But-" 

"Gustave," said Christine firmly, "Please go to sleep".

Gustave sighed and replied, "Yes Mama" 

"I will come back in just a few moments" she promised. 

Christine forced a smile as she slipped out of the door, she now had no choice but to tell Erik. 

-

Erik watched Christine slip silently back into the room, making sure to close the door behind her. 

"It's a relief" he mused.

"What is?" asked Christine.

"He is far too much like you, he's nothing like Raoul" 

Christine opened her mouth to speak but faltered. 

Her pause did not go unnoticed. 

"You wish to speak?" he asked. 

"I fear your reaction" she replied.

"You have no need to fear me," he said, approaching her slowly. 

"I do not know how to phrase it" she explained nervously. 

"Christine, nothing you can say will anger me, I promise that I-"

"He's your son" she blurted. 

She stared at him, trying to gauge his reaction. 

He stature remained much the same, apart from his hands which had been cupped behind his back, suddenly lost all strength from his arms and lay weakly by his side. His eyes narrowed in bewilderment, as she watched his brain try to process the significance of the words that just left her lips. 

"Repeat that" he breathed.

Christine took a breath, "He is your son"

"Not possible" he replied sharply.

"That is nonsense and you know it" retorted Christine. 

"We had one night together" protested Erik.

"One night is all that it can take" she replied.

“You are lying” he muttered, “you must be lying”

“Erik, why would I lie?” she questioned, trying to reason with him.

“It is not possible” he breathed, using the back of a nearby chair for support.

“You are a man and I am a woman, how is it not possible Erik!” she exclaimed.

“Because I am not supposed to be able to make a child” he exclaimed desperately.

“What” breathed Christine.

“Years ago I was told by a doctor I would never succeed in making a woman pregnant” he replied, now turning away to hide his emotions.

“Erik” she whispered, reaching out for his hand. “He is your son, I am not lying”

“I wish I could believe you” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“Three months before my wedding we spent the night together, my baby was born three months early, he was called the miracle baby by the whole family. As when I went into labour everyone, including Raoul expected myself and child to die” explained Christine, determined for Erik to understand.

“Christine please” begged Erik.

“When he was born he was perfect” she continued, “you saw for yourself” 

“Christine” whispered Erik.

“He has no blemishes,” she said, “apart from one” 

Erik turned to her. 

“You ask me for proof that he yours?” she began, “He has a small birthmark”

Erik’s eyes narrowed as he listened.

“On his left shoulder he has a small birthmark, in the exact location of your own,” she said.

Erik let out a raspy breath, “How do you-”

“That night we spent together Erik, you turned away from me in your sleep without your shirt and I saw the birthmark”. “He shares the same one, it is the exact shape and size” she explained desperately. 

“And Raoul” breathed Erik, still in a deep state of shock. “Did he know?’

Christine let out a sigh, “He would have killed me”

“When he was born, what happened?” asked Erik slowly.

“The second I saw him, his little face like mine, but with your eyes and hair I knew for sure” began Christine. “Raoul, expecting a child with blonde hair looked confused, so I quickly exclaimed something about my father having such dark eyes, and then Raoul commented that he had a memory of his grandfather having black hair” 

Erik nodded, “Your son is he-”

“Our son” interrupted Christine.

He looked to her, quite in disbelief of the words about to leave his lips. “Our son,” he said slowly, “He is healthy? He’s not like me?”

“You are correct in the observation that he has no physical traits like you do, in relation to a deformity of any kind” nodded Christine. “But you are wrong in notion that he is nothing like you”

Erik, now allowing his tears to fall freely listened intently. 

“He is so much like you” she smiled, her own tears mingling with her joy. “He is so clever and so talented” 

“Tell me he did not inherit my bad qualities?” breathed Erik.

“He does have a temper” commented Christine, daring to smile. 

To her surprise, Erik let out a little laugh through his tears, “No child of mine could be born without a temper”.

Christine reached out and took his hand, “He has been my only joy these last twelve years, and for that, I must thank you” she smiled, trying not to cry. 

“Does he know that I am his father?” asked Erik.

“No” replied Christine.

“Good” he nodded slowly, “it must remain that way” 

“Erik please” begged Christine,”Do not leave us!”

“I am never leaving you again” assured Erik, “but for his sake, he must never know” 

“He is safe as long as he has his title” explained Christine.

“Have you no more children?” asked Erik.

Christine faltered for a moment, “None” 

“Why did Raoul never bed you?” asked Erik. 

“Of course he did” she replied quickly, “and naturally after Gustave the family expected more and none came, of course, I was blamed” she explained.

“But why would they blame you, when you had already conceived a child” replied Erik, his tone serious. 

“Yes, I knew it was not my fault, but Raoul and family did not know that” explained Christine. “And as the years rolled on and no more children came Raoul became far more determined in his efforts-” she stopped. 

“He forced himself on you,” asked Erik, his posture changing. 

“Not always” she replied, “But he would never allow me to gain any pleasure from it, he be so forceful that sometimes I would bleed and be in pain for days”. “I was never allowed to complain as it was my own fault and if I would just have a child, it would stop” 

Erik pulled her close, “I am glad the little bastard is dead, for if he wasn’t I kill him myself” 

“He was so violent because he was so afraid” she whispered. 

“Afraid of what,” asked Erik. 

“Of being sterile” she replied. “It is known that at least one of the sets of children born with the Changy blood is always sterile”

“He only had a brother and a sister, correct” commented Erik.

“Yes, his sister died of typhoid some years ago but had five children, his brother Philippe and his wife had four children within the first ten years of their marriage, so it meant that-”

“Raoul was the sterile sibling” finished Erik, almost in disbelief. 

“Yes,” she replied.

“I should never have left you” he murmured softly, holding her tight. 

“Do not blame yourself, you left because you thought I was happy. You left because you loved me and I was too blind to see it” she replied, gently kissing his cheek. 

Erik leant down and kissed her, she melted as his lips touched hers. A sudden surge of passion filled her body and she kissed back. 

His once shy hands began to wander, his large fingers brushing her breasts as their mouths collided. 

She wished for nothing more than this, but she realised she could not go any further. Gustave would more than likely still be awake, he never liked being alone in the dark. The last thing she wanted was to ever give him reason to be afraid. 

Erik gasped for air as she pulled away.

“Christine?” he breathed, his eyes filled with bewilderment. 

“Not now” she replied, “Gustave needs me” 

“I need you” he urged. 

“Tomorrow,” she said, “Gustave is spending the night at his cousin’s house, our little plan to help him recover from the grief”.

“What does this mean for us?” asked Erik.

“Return tomorrow night at 10 o’clock, I will leave the windows unlocked for you, I will be dismissing the servants over the next few days as I will have no need for them” she explained. 

“You ask a great deal of me” he replied.

“Return to me tomorrow” she ordered, “then I can be yours” 

She reached up and kissed him quickly before opening the door. 

He smiled a little, bowed and left her, disappearing into the dark house. 

Once she was certain he was gone, she rushed to the window and threw it open breathing in the cool night air. She felt like she was on fire. After being with a man for so long that she felt nothing but hatred for, Erik’s passionate and gentle caresses and sent a fire to her groin, which stayed there. 

She had to send him away for tonight, no matter how much she wanted him. 

Besides she only had a few hours left to wait. 

-  
Christine waited almost impatiently. 

She had spent most of the day helping Philippe begin to organise Raoul’s chaotic affairs. He had left debts, right, left and centre. Not much of a fortune was left for Gustave to inherit. 

“So explain this to me again,” asked Christine, completely bewildered. “My son’s fortune has been reduced to merely a few thousand francs?” 

“It would appear so” replied Philippe reluctantly. “I spoke with Raoul’s accountant this morning, who asked forgiveness for saying it, but he was glad to be rid of such a client” 

“What am I going to do know?” exclaimed Christine. 

“The question is not you but we” replied Philippe, “I will not see you and your boy go to rack and ruin” 

“Philippe, may I speak with you in confidence,” asked Christine softly. 

“Of course” he replied. 

“Now that Raoul is dead it is time you knew the truth, especially since the fortune is so precarious,” she said. 

“The truth about what?” he asked.

“Gustave” she replied slowly. 

“What about him?” asked Philippe gently.

“Raoul- Raoul is not his father” she confessed, awaiting Philippe’s reaction. 

“Can you forgive me?” she begged. 

“Why are you telling me this now?” asked Philippe softly, “Why not before?”

She let out a relieved breath, “If Raoul had even had the slightest reason to doubt that child I would be dead and you know it” 

Philippe nodded, “I understand”

“Please brother, let me explain my reasons” begged Christine. “Please do not think ill of me because of this!”

Philippe held her hand in his, “I don’t think it is possible for me to think ill of you, my dear”

Christine smiled weakly as she tried to compose herself. “Thank you”

“Tell me everything you want to” he smiled. 

“I want to you know that Gustave was not conceived out of lust” began Christine. “Nor was I ever violated before my marriage and he was the result”.

“Do you know who is father is?” asked Philippe gently.

“Yes” replied Christine, “And he is a good man” 

“I am glad to hear it” he replied. 

“Now what does this mean for us?” asked Christine. “My son and I?” 

Philippe shifted in his chair, “Naturally to avoid scandals and to keep the family name, or what's left of it intact, I must ask you to continue to keep this secret” 

“But Philippe, this is unfair” exclaimed Christine.

“My brother was the youngest” began Philippe. “He would never have inherited much anyway, in our family your son will be, and I mean this with respect, of such insignificance that the fact he is not our true blood does not matter” 

“So he will keep his title and nothing more?” asked Christine.

“He will have our love and constant support in all things” replied Philippe. “Your boy is special to myself and my wife, not to mention his cousins” 

“Do you see now why I am determined to leave?” she whispered. 

Philippe took her hand, “I understand, if you feel it is right, you must go” 

“Do you wish to know more about Gustave’s father?” asked Christine. “I only ask as, he will be joining myself and our son when we travel to Provence” 

“I should wish to meet him” replied Philippe.

“I was afraid you would say that” she replied.

“Is it not possible?” asked Philippe.

“In a sense, he is very protective of me, even more so now” she replied. “I must speak to him first, inform him off yourself and wife's kindness and I believe he will meet with you” 

“If that is what it takes” replied Philippe. “You have suffered so much Christine, I could not bare it if I was to let you suffer any further” 

-

“But why aren't you coming with me Mama!” exclaimed Gustave, tugging at his mother's dress. 

“Because I have things to deal with here” she hushed. 

“I want you to come with me!” he begged. 

“Mon ange I must stay here, besides what would I do with yourself and your cousins?” she asked.

Gustave sniffed and remained quiet. 

“I want you to go and enjoy yourself mon ange” she hushed, brushing her hand over his hair.

“But I will miss you too much” he sniffed. 

“Oh, darling” she sighed, kneeling down beside him. 

“I miss Papa” mumbled Gustave.

Christine faltered, “we both do mon ange, but he would not want us to be sad would he?” 

“He made you sad” replied Gustave.

Christine did not know what to say. “Every married couple have their arguments, Gustave” 

“But he hit you” 

“You should never have seen that-” 

“And at night I would hear you crying Mama,” said Gustave, “why were you crying?” 

Christine knew this questioning was part of grief but she had never known that Gustave had heard Raoul attack her. She had made sure he was across the house when any angry disputes occurred. 

“You know that your Papa loved you, Gustave, he loved you more than anything” replied Christine, trying to ignore her son's previous questions.

“He never said he loved me” replied Gustave sadly. 

“Mon ange” she whispered, gently taking his hands. “Your Papa was a man who found expressing his emotions very difficult-” 

“Is that why he hit you and called you all those names?” asked Gustave” 

“What names?” blurted Christine, instantly regretting her question. 

“He would call you a whore” replied Gustave, saying the word slowly. 

Christine stalled, “Gustave don't say that word” 

“Why?” 

“Because it is a foul and cruel word, your Papa should not have used it” she replied. 

“Why would he call you that?” asked Gustave. “What does it mean?”

“It is a word that little boys do not need to know the meaning” she replied. 

“But Mama-” 

“Enough questions Gustave” she snapped. 

His little face crumbled, his expression so reminiscent of his father's. 

“Now mon ange” she hushed pulling him into a warm embrace. “Mama is just tired, she did not mean to shout at you” 

“It's okay” he replied, snuggling into his mother's neck. 

“Madame” 

Christine looked up and saw her servant standing by the door. 

“Yes Lise, what is it?” she asked, still hugging Gustave. 

“Philippe de Changy is here to see you” replied her servant. 

“Uncle Philippe!” exclaimed Gustave, his mood suddenly improved. 

“Go on” Christine urged and smiled as her son sped out of the door. 

-

“Madame are you quite sure there is nothing I can get you?” 

Christine sighed, “No Lise, I am quite content”

“Shall I tell Madeline to stop preparing dinner?” asked Lise. 

“No, I will require enough for two” replied Christine.

“Two Madame?” 

“Yes, just in case Gustave returns home and wishes to eat” replied Christine calmly. 

“Madame?” 

“Is there a problem Lise?” asked Christine.

The young girl shook her head. 

“Well then, once dinner is prepared, bring it to the Blue Room and leave it there” began Christine. “Then you and Madeline may leave for the night, Samuel may stay and patrol the grounds, but he is not to enter the house or disturb me” 

“Oui Madame” replied Lise, before she curtsied and left the room. 

Christine lay back in her chair counting down the hours til she would be reunited with her Angel. 

-  
“Were you planning on informing me, of your adventures as of late?” 

Erik looked up to see his agitated cousin storm in the room. 

“Take a breath Cousin, you must not grow so angry” mused Erik. 

“On the day of her husband's funeral Erik?” questioned Nadir, “have you lost your senses!” 

“If you are going to lecture me, Cousin, I suggest you stop, for I will not listen and you will just waste your breath” replied Erik calmly. 

“After all that poor child had been through and now you choose to return” exclaimed Nadir.

“Her husband's death is one I have greatly anticipated for some time now” replied Erik, “besides there is more than one reason now for me to return to her” 

“What are you talking about?” questioned Nadir. 

“The boy” replied Erik.

“Her son, what about him?” asked Nadir.

“He's mine” muttered Erik.

“What did you just say?” breathed Nadir.

“You heard correct Cousin, the boy is my son” replied Erik. 

“But you told me that yourself and Christine never shared each other's bed” exclaimed Nadir.

Erik sat back on his chair, without needing to reply his Cousin read his expression.

“Allah give me strength” breathed Nadir, dropping into the nearest chair. 

“I was just as shocked as you dear Cousin” replied Erik. 

“Not that Christine has ever given me cause to doubt her good nature, but are you sure he is your son,” asked Nadir, breaching the subject gently. 

“She would not lie to me” replied Erik sharply. 

“Nor would I ever suggest it” retracted Nadir. 

“She gave me sufficient enough evidence to prove that her- our son, is mine” replied Erik.

“Does the child know?” asked Nadir.

Erik shook his head once. “He will live with the memory of Raoul as his father, the Changy name will protect him more than I ever could” 

“And what of Christine's fate?” asked Nadir.

“Unbeknownst to me, she has suffered greatly at the hands of that privileged bastard, I will never leave her side again” replied Erik swiftly. 

“I then suspect that her side is where you will be travelling to tonight?” asked Nadir. 

“Correct, by her invitation, not by my own request” replied Erik. 

“You must go to her” nodded Nadir. 

“No force of heaven or hell can prevent me” replied Erik, steady rising from his seat. 

-

Christine looked into the mirror, gently brushing her chocolate curls. 

Her self-esteem had been shattered in these last years. Thanks to Raoul, her face was either black with bruises on shiny with tears. The perfection she had worn as a young girl had been since lost to her. 

In a way, she did not know why she bothered with preparing for this night. She was convinced Erik would act the same way if she wore a bed sheet instead of a dress. Even as a child he had told her how beautiful she was. These gentle and endearing comments had carried her through the painful years of her childhood when most nights were spent crying herself to sleep. 

“Madame?” called Lise reluctantly.

“Yes, Lise” sighed Christine, well aware of her lingering presence. 

“Madeline and I are leaving now” she replied, her coat draped over her arms. 

“Yes, thank you,” said Christine, “and be sure to lock the door behind you” 

“Yes, Madame” replied Lise, gently closing the door. 

Christine listened to the sound of the door locking and the chatter disappearing. Once it had gone, she quickly hurried to the back of the house and pushed open the window in the hallway. She looked out into the empty streets, it was raining, so those braving the night quickly ran under the cover of umbrellas or the occasional crumpled newspaper. 

She could not spot him, that did not surprise her. He was like a real ghost in that respect, he would appear and disappear without a trace of sound. 

“Very well Erik” she whispered, “I will be waiting” 

“Then I shall not make you wait any longer” 

Christine nearly fell out the window.

“Christ above Erik!” she exclaimed, using the window frame for balance. “Must you sneak up on me?” 

Erik tried not to smile, the outer corners of his lips twitching slightly. 

“Where- how did you get in my house?” she demanded.

“The back door had been left unlocked and the weather hardly made me wish to stand under a tree, so I slipped inside early” he replied, his lips still twitching.

“You find this funny?” she questioned, her hands now pinned to her hips. 

Erik coughed awkwardly, “No Madame”.

Christine relaxed as she saw him smirk. Laughter was so rare for Erik, she was not going to rob him of his amusement, even at her own expense. 

“Then again” she sighed with a smile, “you have always been very good at frightening me” 

She walked past him and he caught her arm. 

Christine followed his hand up to his eyes, “Dinner?” 

“Pardon?” 

“I have had dinner prepared for us” she replied, “would you join me?”

“As you wish” he replied, following her to the bedroom. 

-

“It seems you enjoyed the food” she observed, placing the near empty plate on the tray. 

“It was satisfactory” replied Erik.

“I find it quite remarkable as I have never seen you properly consume food before” she replied, taking up her glass of wine and sitting opposite him. 

“It is a mundane task I often do not save time for” he replied. 

“You have been composing as of late?” she asked. 

“Not for some time now” he replied swiftly. “I have been without my muse” 

Christine took a sip of her wine, “I suspect I am to blame for that” 

“Partly” 

“I am not your muse?” she asked, with a slight flirtatious tone to her voice.

“You are one of my two loves” he replied, quite enjoying his own glass of wine. 

“The other being?” she asked. 

His hand stretched out towards the window, his gloved fingers pointing to the outside world, “Paris” 

“You have been denied us both, and I am to blame for the separation” she commented. 

Erik did not need to reply.

“When you left me, when you left Paris, where did you go?” asked Christine. 

Erik shifted in her chair, “London first, then Venice” 

“Both intriguing cities” commented Christine, “both know for their beauty” 

“But none had you and none were like Paris” sighed Erik deeply. 

“We both misjudged ourselves, myself more than anyone” replied Christine sadly. 

“You did not know better” assured Erik.

“I was not a child Erik” commented Christine.

“Yes you were” he replied swiftly.

“I was so stupid” she muttered. 

“Do not blame yourself for the mistakes of the past, you do not need that kind of torture” ordered Erik firmly. 

“I have experienced every other kind of torture, why not add another” she sighed, taking another sip of wine. 

“Do not mock me with talk of torture” ordered Erik. 

Christine looked up, “I am not” 

“Do not speak of something that you do not know Christine” he ordered.

“Don't I?” she sighed, letting out a breathy laugh.

“Christine?” 

“From the little you have told me of your experiences with the circus, I do know that they kept you in a cage” she began, “correct?” 

“Yes” replied Erik. 

She lifted up her arm and flayed out her hand, “Welcome to mine” 

Erik started at her, confusion and sadness in his eyes. 

“I grant you, my cage is somewhat larger and more comfortable I suspect than the one you were kept in, but they may as well be bars on the doors and windows because this is my prison,” she said. 

“You were beaten by your masters?” she asked. 

Erik nodded.

“So was I” she replied. “In the last few months of his life, Raoul took up smoking” 

She lifted up her hair which lay around her neck, revealing several sore red blisters.

Erik leant forward, starting at the marks in horror. 

“He would burn me with the ends of the cigars for his own amusement” she commented, trying to stay composed.

“Did you never fight back?” whispered Erik, staring at her. 

Christine let her hair fall back into place, “It was better if I didn't” 

“I fought back once” she began. “It was very early in his violent outbreaks and he hit me so I hit him back-” 

“Christine?” urged Erik.

“And he broke three of my ribs after beating me til I was near unconscious” she finished quickly. 

Erik's posture stiffened.

“And when he called the doctors and they were treating me, he came to my bedside and kissed my forehead before he laughed and said, My dear wife, you must learn to be more careful on the stairs” 

“I wish the little cunt was not dead” hissed Erik, “I wanted to kill him myself” 

“Be glad he's dead” urged Christine. “God knows I am” 

“We both have spent more than ten years in a cage” he proclaimed angrily.

“See, we are not that different after all” she replied. 

Erik looked to her and reached out for her hand. He was sure to be gentle, as her bruising was so significant. He pressed a soft kiss against her palm, sighing as he made contact.

He pulled back and looked to Christine in confusion as she said, “Don't stop” 

“Christine-” 

“You said you still love me” she replied softly, “show me” 

She saw him flinch as she stood up, slowly shedding her dressing gown, leaving her covered in her thin nightgown.

She watched his eyes wander down her figure until they met hers, his good cheek flooded with red and his gaze snapped to the other side of the room. 

Christine was almost tempted to laugh, but only a smile showed her amusement. She stepped the short distance between them and took him by the chin, pulling his eyes back to hers.

“Come now” she teased, “where is my Don Juan?” 

“He is unworthy of you” replied Erik.

Christine sighed, “You have never lost your sense of duty have you?” 

“I had the pleasure of lying with you once, I am unworthy to do so again” he stammered. 

“We are both unworthy of each other” she replied. 

Erik looked at her with a broken smile. 

“The last time, you were the damaged one, you were the one who had known what true suffering meant, you were in pain and I was too blind to see it” she began.

She wrapped her hand around his mask, and despite his obvious distress, she lifted it off. Laying in beside them on the table, she bent and kissed his distorted cheek. 

“We are both broken now,” she said. 

Cupping his face she kissed him, gently but with intention. 

To her surprise and relief, he kissed back. 

Christine felt his hands begin to move, they seemed to hover beside her waist, but his confidence was lacking in the ability to touch her flesh. 

Taking his hands in her own, she pushed them against her waist, almost gasping as he pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling the very edge of the chair. 

His movements were soft and wavering, he was never forceful. 

She could feel his desire pressing on her thigh, with every kiss and caress from her mouth and hands, she felt his need grow further. It reminded her of her own situation. The fire that had been burning suddenly gained power, with her every breath she felt like she was melting. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands laying limp as she broke away from his mouth and kissed his neck, tugging open his shirt he let out a raspy breath as her lips made contact with his bare chest. 

He began to stand up, wrapping her legs around his waist. She didn't care where he was taking her, as long as he did not let her go. 

Walking several paces, he threw her onto the bed, allowing them both a moment's respite. 

Their eyes locked and Christine swiftly pulled off her nightgown. She lay back on her arms, watching as Erik drank in her figure. 

Seeing this Erik began to shed his own clothes, desperate for the touch of her skin against his. Her body remained much the same as it did all those years ago, only her hips had widened with childbirth. He chose to ignore the bruises covering her arms and chest. If she could stomach the sight of his unmasked face, what right had he to ask her to conceal her damaged flesh? 

He watched her as he finally allowed his manhood free from the constraints of his breeches. Her eyebrow arched and she bit down on her lip. From what he could tell his size pleased her. As animalistic as it seemed, her reaction made him feel more like a man than ever before. 

She slipped onto her knees and crawled down the bed, before she looked up at him, her eyes full of a mischievous desire. 

“We have been apart for so long my love” she whispered.

He watched her hand trail a path down his chest before brushing the tip of his cock.

She smirked as his whole body flinched, “Let me show you what I have learned” she purred.

Erik had little time to process her words before her hand wrapped around the full length of his manhood and picked up a firm rhythm. He groaned in pleasure as her lips touched the tip before daring to venture further. 

With his left hand, he grabbed a bedpost for support whilst the other hand took a fistful of her hair, guiding her mouth to the desired speed. 

Christine had quite forgotten how large Erik was, accumulating space in her mouth was proving a minor problem. She tentatively allowed his manhood into the very back of her mouth, the tip almost slipping into her neck. To allow movement she made small gagging noises which had more than the desired effect on Erik. With her other hand lying free, she went in search of his sack and massaged it between her fingers, delighting the moan that came from Erik's lips. It took only a matter of seconds before he released her hair allowing her to bring his manhood forwards in her mouth before he spilt his seed. 

Christine swallowed the fluid with ease. After being forced to perform this act with Raoul almost on a daily basis, she had learnt what pleased a man. Over time she had perfected her technique. She was filled with happiness at the idea that Erik would never use her as such. She instigated the act, for once it was not forced. 

She looked up at him, wiping with her thumb the stray fluid that had escaped her mouth. Trying her best to look as innocent as she did all those years ago. 

Erik chuckled, pushing her down on the bed. 

“Don't try and play innocent my dear” he commented “For you are far from it” 

She smirked and tried to pout, sticking out her bottom lip, “I thought all Angels were innocent?” 

“You are no Angel” she replied, kissing her neck. “You have become a goddess” 

She laughed before pulling his face back to hers and latching her lips to his. 

Christine moaned through her mouth as Erik's skilled hands began to wander. Her breasts and her thighs were gently caressed before he ventured to his final destination.

He saw her shiver as he parted her lips with his fingers. His thumb massaging her bud as his fingers wandered, instantly coated in her own desire. 

“You're so wet” he moaned, breaking off her mouth for air. 

“Take me” she breathed. 

Those words instantly sent blood surging to his manhood, it then becoming fully aroused in a matter of seconds. 

“Where do you want me?” he asked teasingly. 

Her eyes locked with his, “You know exactly where” she panted.

He smirked before slipping two fingers into her entrance and watching as she gasped and arched her back. 

“Yes” he replied, “but I want to hear you say it” 

“There,” she replied, barely at a whisper. 

“Pardon?” he teased, still rubbing her bud with his thumb. 

She moaned her reply, but Erik was not satisfied. 

As he was much larger than Christine his unoccupied hand along with most of his body travelled back up, level with her face. 

His hand brushed over her lips, still teasing her entrance with his touch. 

He gasped as Christine bid down on one of his fingers, he pulled it back admiring the little teeth marks imprinted on it. 

His eyes flew to hers as she replied with us much passion as she could muster, “Right there” 

Erik could control himself no longer, enough games, enough teasing, enough waiting. 

Their lips returned together as Erik aligned himself with her damp entrance. With one gentle but sharp thrust, the pair finally became one. 

Christine moaned with pleasure as Erik's large manhood pressed inside of her. After so many years apart this moment was long overdue. 

Erik could barely believe this was real. Over the last twelve years, he had lost count of how many times he had dreamt this moment. Constantly repressing these thoughts because he believed she was happy. To find her so full of desire and willing to grant him this pleasure more than once was beyond his understanding. 

He recalled the first time they laid together all those years ago. She had come to him to make peace, instead, they had made love. He had been so unsure that she was willing to be with him. She nearly grew angry with him due to a number of times he stalled or refused to move any further because he could not believe her. In Erik's mind, it would not make any kind of sense. Why would a creature of the heavens allow such a beast to have her, not only that but take her purity along with him? 

He knew nothing about sleeping with women. His studies of the human anatomy had left him with many queries.Fortunately, Nadir’s medical writings were on hand to answer his questions. If she is in pain, slow down or stop. That was his orders. 

Erik was determined to treat her like a tiny flower, moving so gently that he would not harm a single petal. 

He could see it in her eyes that she expected pain. No doubt she had been told that blood and pain accompanied the loss of virginity. Erik knew this was not so. 

When her eyes widened with pleasure rather than pain Erik had never felt such a sense of relief. Now all these years later to see her eyes widen once again in such pleasure brought him an equal sense of happiness and satisfaction. 

“Erik” she panted, “my love” 

He looked to her, she wore a devious smile. 

In a matter of seconds, he was lying on his back, his desires were not compromised despite his confusion. 

“Christine?” he breathed.

She climbed onto his waist, grinding against his manhood before she replied, "You cannot possibly think that there is only one way to make love?” 

He sat back up, pushing himself back inside her, “Are you giving me orders now?” 

She shivered at his tone, without replying she slowly began to roll her hips, causing them both to moan in pleasure. 

Erik wanted to please her further but his climax was coming. He was determined to make her release first. Instinct told him to wrap his hands around her hips and thrust himself, it created the desired effect. 

Within seconds Christine threw her head back in sheer ecstasy, his name the only thing on her lips. 

Now that she was satisfied he felt his own desire build and gain momentum. Christine continued to rock her hips and send his desires sky high. But in the last second, he lifted her off him, her form landing on the bed with a shocked gasp. He groaned as he came, his seed spilling onto his chest. 

It was a few seconds before either of them spoke. 

“Why did you do that?” she asked, tossing him a spare handkerchief. 

“Do what?” he replied, cleaning up his chest. 

“Refuse to finish inside of me” she commented. 

“Our son” he confessed.

“What?” 

“One is quite enough would you not say?” he replied. 

She sat up, “I would not have minded” 

“But if you had, I would never have forgiven myself” he replied, kissing her hand before slipping off the bed and beginning to retrieve his clothes. 

“You are not leaving me are you?” she questioned immediately. 

Erik stalled, “I did not know that you wished me to stay”

Christine almost found the situation amusing. Her Angel stood stark naked in the middle of the room, holding a crumpled pair of trousers, with a scared and confused look on his face. 

“Surely you know that we do not just go our separate ways after making love Erik” she smiled, patting the bed. 

“Now come here” she ordered.

“But the boy-” 

“Our son will not return til morning, should you wish to leave before then, I will inform you of the time” she replied. 

He pulled back on his trousers as he saw her retrieve her nightgown. Nakedness was suitable for making love but not always the ideal way in which to sleep. 

He sighed happily as she climbed under the covers with him. Her head resting on his chest, with an arm and a leg swung over him. 

“I never thought to ask,” he said, unsure whether his question would ruin this perfect moment. 

“Ask what?”

“Your wedding night” he replied tentatively. 

“What about it?” 

“How-”

“How did I manage to convince Raoul that I was a virgin?” she interrupted, finishing his question. 

She looked up at him, a red tint covered his good cheek. “Yes,” he replied. 

Christine dared to laugh a little. “Raoul was incredibly drunk on our wedding night, I don't think, to him, it would have made much difference if he had instead made love to a bedpan” 

Christine smiled when Erik tried to repress his laughter. 

She sighed before continuing. “Our lovemaking- did not last long anyways” “He finished, kissed me and fell right asleep” 

"Did he hurt you?" asked Erik firmly.

Christine sighed, 'No he did not, how can I say this?"

Erik looked curious.

"Raoul was significantly smaller than you are, so he did not hurt me that night" she replied, smiling slightly. 

Erik laughed, his laugh low and deep. "You have quite the way with words my dear"

Christine smiled, "I was completely without pain"

“What about proof?” inquired Erik, “if it not too bold of me” 

Christine smiled sadly, “I had been given a lengthy lecture from Raoul's Mama, explaining my duties and the consequences of Raoul finding no blood staining the sheets” 

“What did you do?” 

“I hardly slept for thinking of it” she confessed. “Then I decided I must do something, I knew by them that I was already with child, my mother's instinct kicked in, so I did what I had to do” 

“Nothing too drastic I hope” replied Erik, his uncertainty audible in his tone. 

“No” she replied firmly. “I slipped from the bed and pricked my finger with a needle that I knew was in the room, I climbed back into bed and let the blood drip onto the sheets, also adding some to my thighs and the nightgown” 

“It's ridiculous” commented Erik.

“It worked” she replied. “Raoul’s mother came bursting in the room that morning and pulled the covers back, she was satisfied with the blood, she even complimented him on his vigorous success in ravaging your new bride” 

“Remind me to never cross paths with that woman” commented Erik, holding her a little tighter. 

“I should hope you never have to meet her” replied Christine. “She's a fearsome creature to behold” 

“But” she sighed, “that doesn't matter”. She pressed a kiss against his chest, “for I have you” 

He smiled and pushed a kiss against her chocolate curls in return. 

“You seem to have developed a good relationship with his brother” observed Erik. 

She gasped quietly, “So it was you at the graveyard?” 

He raised his good eyebrow, “Would it be someone else?” 

She lightly smacked his chest, “Yes to answer your question, Philippe and his wife have been nothing but kind to me all these years” 

“You seemed to be having quite to the conversation with him” recalled Erik. 

“Yes” she sighed, “Gustave and I are leaving Paris and he wishes us to stay” 

“What about me?” he asked.

“I won't go anywhere without you” she replied quickly. “Not now, not ever” 

“Where we are to go?” asked Erik.

“I have a home available in Provence, I had wished to live out the rest of my days there” she replied.

“That is a great distance from Paris, I can see why Philippe would be reluctant for you to go” replied Erik.

“Would you join us?” she asked. “I know what Paris means to you” 

“My love” sighed Erik. “I will go wherever you go, for I would not wish to be anywhere else” 

She kissed his hand, “You are good to me” 

“If it pleased you, I would wish to return a few times a year, but I think some country air would do us all some good” replied, Erik. 

“I love you,” she said, snuggling into his chest. 

“As do I my Angel” he replied, “As do I”


End file.
